


The Quiet Ones

by QuillMind



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artists, Classroom Sex, Drawing, F/M, High School, Oral Sex, Other, Reader-Insert, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Smut, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: You gotta watch out for them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to both [momothesweet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet) and [kyakoin](http://kyakoin.tumblr.com/) for beta reading my first oneshot Haikyuu fic!

Everything about you had been unassuming.  You were quiet and calm, and not a squealing fan like a few other girls at Karasuno High were.  Rather than swarming a select member of the boys' volleyball team and begging to exchange phone numbers or take a picture together, you had approached the whole team at the end of practice, and asked point blank if you could draw them.  

You had garnered some attention since elementary school for having creative talent, but unfortunately for you, Karasuno's art club did not have enough budget to pay for live models.  Private drawing studios were either too far from where you lived or too expensive, so it was the most logical conclusion to ask some of the sports teams for permission.  

"It wouldn't be all the time," you'd said.  "I'm drawing the baseball, soccer, tennis and basketball teams, too.  And I promise I won't be disruptive."  

Coach Ukai saw no reason to say no, and neither did Takeda.  They gave you the okay, and you gave a polite smile and thanks to the team.  

Hinata hyperactively promised to show his best moves to inspire your art.  Tanaka asked if you would prefer him to play shirtless, while Sugawara apologized in advance for the former two's behaviour.  You exchanged a few words with the rest of the team, then went to one of the few that hadn't bothered to come to you.  

"Tsukishima-kun."  

The lanky middle blocker was completely indifferent to you, as he would be to anyone else.  Social obligation was what forced him to turn around and actually face you.  

"Yes?"  

You gave a tiny smile.  Not a toothpaste-commercial-grin, and not a sly smirk, just a hint of amusement--or something like it.  "You're quite tall for a first-year."  

Tsukishima grimaced.   _This again._  

 _You're so tall for your age!  Are you sure you're only in high school?  How did you get so big?  Maybe you've got some foreigner blood in you somewhere!_  

What did people seriously expect him to say to things like that?   _Yes, thank you!  Actually, I'm 20!  I took super-soldier serum!  I was made from a Caucasian sperm donor!_  

The sheer inanity of people's meaningless chatter grated on Tsukishima at times.  Investing in quality headphones to avoid all that verbal diarrhea was well worth the money, in his opinion.  Slip them over your head and you got to listen to what you wanted, as well as wearing the most socially-acceptable "don't talk to me" sign there was.  It was probably one of the reasons he liked volleyball; any talk that happened during it was strictly necessary--unless you had people like Hinata on your team, that is.  

If you noticed his distaste towards your comment, you didn’t give any indication of it.  Instead, you simply said, "I like the way you look."  

Tsukishima blinked.  He hadn't expected you to continue talking, much less say _that._  

"...Excuse me?"  

"Exactly that.  I like the way you look.  Not just your face--your height, body--you're aesthetically pleasing.  I look forward to drawing you."  

His forehead crinkled as he studied you.  "So you're the kind of person that judges others based on appearances?"  

"You mean you care that I do?"  You shrugged, unapologetic.  "I'm just stating facts.  In art your eye goes to things you find pleasing, and I think I can make lots of pleasing images with you."  

He had never been spoken like this by a girl--or anyone, really.  The things you were saying felt strangely intimate while maintaining cordial primness.  They were the kind of things that other girls would probably blush and squirm at in their attempts to say them, but your cadence and tone remained smooth and pleasant.  

"Do what you want."

Tossing his towel over his shoulder, he turned on his heel and walked away.  

****

You usually sat off to the side to draw, with a large sketchbook propped on your lap.  Your face went completely serious when you drew, focusing intently on whichever subject you had chosen.  Your arms would fly across the surface of the paper as fast as the team did on the court, and other times would slow down to the point that from a distance it didn't appear you were moving at all.

After practice, the team would ask to see your work, but Tsukishima stood back.  He surreptitiously watched as you spoke to them happily, flipping through pages to show them what you had done for the day, explaining foreshortening, gesture drawing and other artistic concepts.  Sometimes they frowned and cocked their heads, not fully grasping what they were seeing on the paper, but mostly they were impressed and showered you with praise, which was the only time Tsukishima saw you looking uncomfortable.  

That was typically the moment when he realized what he was doing and would quickly look away, feeling irritated for some reason.  Then he would change and head home, playing music on his phone and slipping his headphones on to shut out the rest of the world.  

One day, though, things went a little differently.  

"Hey, Tsukishima!  Come over here and take a look at this!"  

A rare moment in which Tsukishima would feel appreciation for Hinata's personality.  Not that he would ever _tell_ the noisy shrimp.  

The instant Hinata had said called out his name, Tsukishima caught a glimpse of you freezing like an animal that had detected a predator, and he found it oddly magnetic.  Hinata, totally oblivious to the silent exchange between you two, grabbed at Tsukishima's arm and brought him over to your side.  "See, see!  Her drawings are so cool, look!"  

You recovered quickly and turned your sketchbook on your lap at a better angle for Tsukishima to see.  The book was filled with pages of drawings in pen, pencil or graphite (you avoided using charcoal in the gym to avoid leaving a dusty mess) depicting students in their club activities.  Some of the students were drawn in close-up portraits, while the ones that were focused on movement and poses were comparatively featureless in their faces.  For your sketches of the volleyball team, you hadn't bothered to draw the jersey numbers on the figures, so Tsukishima had to deduce who was who.  

Apparently you had read his mind.  "These are Sawamura-senpai," you said, pointing to figures doing serves and receives.  On the following pages were depictions of a smaller figure scrambling to receive the ball, and a taller figure serving and setting, and some quick sketches of a serious, focused expression.  

"Nishinoya-senpai and Kageyama-kun," you explained.  

"She drew you too, Tsukishima!" Hinata exclaimed, flipping to a specific spot in the book.  

Tsukishima had to admit he was impressed by the sheer quality of your work.  The understanding of how muscles bunched and created shadows, the appearance of weight and power by use of darker outlines--even as still images, he could practically see them coming off of the paper to start moving on their own.  

In-between the figure drawings were scatterings of _parts_ of Tsukishima--his hands raised to block, sneaker-clad feet springing off of the floor, and his eyes, sharp and calculating, bordered by the frames of his glasses.  It was a strange feeling to know that someone had been drawing you, even if it had been made clear from the start.  Tsukishima was the sort of person who hated having to be in group photos and being forced to smile, so to see sketches of himself roused something awkward inside of him.  

It was then that you chose to meet his gaze, and were he a more expressive type of person, he might've given himself away as to how much that disrupted him.  Your eyes pierced deep into him, seemed to peel apart every layer of his defenses while you remained perfectly composed.  

"Thoughts?" you asked quietly.  

Tsukishima got the feeling you weren't just talking about your drawings.  

"Not bad," he stated as indifferently as he could, but there was clearly something passing between you two, like the change in the air before a storm.  

Hinata roared in outrage.  "How can you say that, Tsukishima?  They're great drawings!"  He spun back to face you with both of his fists balled like a child.  "Really, you're an amazing artist!  I think it's great that you're drawing us!"  

You laughed lightly and thanked the sprightly middle blocker.  "To be fair, I have very inspiring subject matter."  

Tsukishima didn't miss the glance you gave him when you said that.  

****

He gradually began to notice whenever you weren't present at practice.  You did say you visited the other sports clubs to draw them as well, but it still felt like the times when you were absent crawled at half the pace of normal.  

It was annoying.  

 _You_ were annoying.  

Even though you had never demonstrated any bad behaviour to him or anyone else as far as he knew, even though you were charming in conversation and spoke often with the team members to show them your sketches, Tsukishima was becoming increasingly vexed by your presence--but not as badly as when you weren't around.  

In a sense, you shared some similarities with Kiyoko, with the way that both of you were quiet, reserved, and thoughtful.  But whereas Kiyoko had a cool and uninviting air (especially to guys that took an interest in her), you had something that crept up undetected to lock people's attention onto you.  And that sneaky, infiltrative way that you had managed to snag him suggested something unknowable, perhaps sinister, to Tsukishima.  

Far be it from him to just sit back and let someone make a fool out of him.  

There were no club activities today and classes had long since ended, but he guessed that you would be in the art club room to work on your drawings; he had overheard you say so once when talking to Asahi and Sawamura.  

The art room was located at the far end of the top floor of the school, buffered with a few storage rooms filled with old teaching materials and furniture.  Few people ever went to this area, with the more fearful and superstitious calling it the "ghost zone."  Tsukishima considered such people to be idiots.  

He gave two sharp knocks to the door.

Your response came soon, though your voice sounded somewhat distracted.  “It’s open.”

He pushed the door open and walked in to find you there, standing over one of the long tables where sheets of sketches were laid out.  Despite him barging into the room, you didn't look scared at all, didn't even flinch.  You just raised your head and smiled like a hostess who’d spotted a favourite customer.  

"Hi, Tsukishima-kun."  

Always so composed, never angry or shocked or scared.  Come to think of it, he had never even heard you raise your voice.  Did nothing move you at all?  

Tsukishima took a few steps towards you.  

"Did you want anything?" you asked.

The question was innocent but still gave Tsukishima pause as he considered the different ways it could be interpreted.  

"I think _I_ should be asking you that," he pointed out, taking a couple more steps.  

"How so?"  

One step.  "I very distinctly feel that you're paying a lot more attention to me when you're at the gym for drawing sessions.  It's distracting."  Another step.

You pushed your hands off of the table and stood up straight.  "All I'm doing is looking.  I don't see how that's distracting, especially since you'll have way more eyes on you when you play in tournaments."  

Two more steps.  "You're more distracting than a thousand eyes."  

You smiled accommodatingly, courteously, but giving away nothing, reminiscent of the enigmatic smile of the Mona Lisa.  "I'm always very quiet, and I make sure to keep my distance."  

"But you're _there_ ," Tsukishima snapped, finally coming toe-to-toe with you.  "Even when you're not there, you're distracting me with that same quietness that you think is so undisruptive."  

"It's like I said on the first day," you murmured, looking like you'd just made an important decision in your head, "I like the way you look.  I draw the things I like."  You let a moment pass before dealing the killing blow: "But with some things, drawing isn't enough."  

Tsukishima's mind was jumbled, as chaotic as an entire cookware set tumbling out of a cupboard.  He had processed the words, but was paying even more attention to the huskier edge your last sentence had adopted.  

"What would make it enough for you?" he asked, his voice tense.  

You raised your chin, your lips parting slightly.  "Seeing and touching you in ways that no one else would or will."  

Tsukishima's eyebrow twitched.  What the hell kind of person were you, saying things like this so easily and not blushing or anything?  

"Your turn.  Tsukishima-kun, what do you want?"  

Tsukishima, in rather uncharacteristic fashion, had not planned what would happen beyond this point.  Besides 'confront you,' there was no forethought as to what would happen.  For an analytical personality such as his own, flying blind into the unknown was not something he would ever consider doing.  

Yet here he was, alone in the art room with you, and before he knew it he had pulled you towards him to seal your mouth with his.  He heard you gasp into his throat, but he wasn't sure if that was due to his kissing technique or just having the wind knocked out of you from colliding into his chest.  

It didn't really matter, he supposed; he had never done this before, but judging from the way you were kissing back and sliding your arms up over his, you were liking it.   _He_ certainly did.  

"Mmmm..."  

His spine became like a lightning rod that had just been struck by the shock of your pleased humming.  Soft and luxuriant, it made Tsukishima's legs want to give out--while another appendage wanted to come to attention.  He drew back his hips a little to avoid giving himself away by poking you with a hard-on, but you pulled him back, smiling against his mouth when you felt the tent of his pants prodding your stomach.  He nearly broke the kiss out of embarrassment, but you held his head fast and pushed your tongue into his mouth, and he quickly chose to stay put.  

Just as he was starting to feel irritated at how acutely you were highlighting his inexperience, you yanked yourself back from him as if you had been previously glued together.  What he saw then was a sight he'd never imagined before: your face, flushed with heat and radiating desire with half-lidded eyes and saliva-glossed lips.  Your chest was rising and falling heavily from your breathless pants, and it took him longer than it would have normally to notice that he was doing the same thing.  

You swallowed, then asked him your earlier question through thin gasps.  "What do you want?"  

Caught in a hurricane of lust and need, Tsukishima's mind grasped the answer to that as the one rational thought left at the moment.  

"You."  

He would never have guessed that you would be so demanding, so aggressive, but the way you kissed him with doubled fervor and scrambled to get his clothes off made you seem like a madwoman whose life depended on reaching his bare skin.  

"Impatient, much?" he muttered between kisses, pulling his headphones away from his neck and tossing it onto the table.  

"Very," you replied as you opened his gakuran jacket and got to work on his shirt underneath.  "I finally get to see what I've been thinking about for all this time."  

"All this time?"  Tsukishima panted into your mouth, pulling up the hem of your sweater, halting the kiss and forcing you to raise your arms.  Once off, he threw the garment aside, not seeing or caring where it went, and resumed exploring your lips with an intoxicated thirst.  

"Mmm, I wasn’t staring just because I was drawing you. I was also imagining what it'd be like to have you inside me."  

Tsukishima growled and grabbed at your ass, molding it to his hands through your skirt.  A few seconds later his fingers snaked underneath and met bare flesh and cotton, which prompted him to grind you against his crotch.  You hummed again.   

"Dirty girl."  The bow of your uniform was detached and discarded, quickly followed by your shirt and bra.  The other hand that had stayed on your ass all this time was rubbing fingers up and down the cleft of your buttocks.  

"Dirty boy."  You reached for his belt, but stopped when he grabbed you by the shoulder.  The fierce look in his eyes kept you enthralled as he used his free hand to sweep your drawings off of the table with such force that some of them flew up into the air before fluttering to the floor and other surrounding tables.  

With the surface now cleared, Tsukishima pushed you down onto your back.  The brief respite called his mind back to reason, and he began to hesitate as to whether he should continue having sex in school with you or not.  But then you hiked up your skirt so that it no longer served its purpose, slipped your panties off your hips to kick them off, and spread yourself open with your fingers to show him how drenched you were--and all doubts were erased as quick as a flash.  

So far you had been the dominant one between you two; you had taken the lead and been very clear about what you wanted.  But rather than tentatively touching your slit with nervous fingers like you'd assumed he would, he flashed a fiendish smirk before dipping down and closing his mouth around your swollen clit to suck; his voracious curiosity in things that mystify so many and the determination to figure them out via a variety of online sources had paid off for both of you.  It was so surprising and so good that you bucked from the table and cried out.  

Immediately he stopped and shot up to stare into your face.  It was the first time he'd ever heard you make such a sound, so high and helpless and uncontrolled.  

He needed to hear it again, more, louder.  

Wary of the mess and the heat of your body fogging up the lenses, he removed his glasses before delving between your legs again, and was delighted to not only feel you twitch again, but also hear you suppress a moan.  

This was all learning being done on the fly, but Tsukishima was quick at picking things up.  It was unfortunate that he couldn't really see the looks on your face, but your white-knuckle grip on the table, your fidgeting, and your voice that wordlessly extolled his efforts all made up for it.  And the taste of you-- _god!_  He struggled to describe it, as delicious didn't even begin to do it justice.  

"Tsu... Tsukishima-kun," you shivered, eyes nearly closed and facing the ceiling, "keep doing that.  Ohh!  Keep, keep doing that and I'll--!"  

It was quite the workout for his mouth, but he was so mesmerized by your mounting orgasm that he blocked out the strain and went harder and faster, until your breaths became worrisomely fast and culminated in a high-pitched squeal.  You trembled so much he thought that you might fall to pieces.  Your movements were jerky so he withdrew his mouth to avoid the risk of hurting you, and he took the time to rise and hover above, taking in what he had just done.  

You appeared somewhat blurry due to his nearsightedness, but he could see well enough.  Your hair was splayed out, body misted in sweat and still twitching here and there.  Laboured breaths exerted themselves from your mouth, and your face positively _glowed_ with satisfaction.  He noticed with a glance downwards that you had spilled a bit of your juices onto the table.  

You had never looked more beautiful to him than you did then.  

"Tsukishima-kun."  

Your voice, quiet in the way he was used to, but breathy, leisurely, and inviting.  

"I want you to fuck me."

_Here lie Kei Tsukishima's rationality and self-control.  May they rest in peace._

He undid his belt and pants, exhaling as he finally freed his cock from his boxers.  You pushed yourself up to stare at it, hard and white with a bit of a curve that you were all too eager to test the feel of.  

You leaned over to unzip a side pocket of your bag, and pulled out a square foil packet.  "I'd rather have one and not need it than need one and not have it," was all you said to his questioning look.  

First-time nerves aside, he managed to roll on the condom without any issues, and soon found himself being led to your welcoming entrance by your hand that had taken hold of his cock.  

"Shit..." He cursed under his breath as he felt you tense around him as he sank in, inch by delicious inch, your mouth dropping open in a debauched manner.  Impulsively, he kissed you; it helped to drown out his moans as he got himself buried all the way to the hilt, but once he started moving, even that wasn't enough.  You leaned back on one hand, the other grasping his shoulder for support as he churned in and out, each stroke making you sigh and keen languidly.  

"Good... Good... You're so good, Tsukishima-kun..."  

Was he curious and jealous about whoever else you might have had before him?  Only a little.  More than anything, he was spellbound by how unashamed you were of your lust, how devoted you were to feeling him fuck you, letting your head roll back and being totally unconcerned with the mess you were making on the table.  To think that that straitlaced, reserved artist was this much of a libertine...

 _Fuck._  He wasn't going to last.  

He pushed you back down onto the table and he followed, propping himself up with one arm while the other groped at your breasts.  You felt his hot breath on your face as he went faster, slapping hips to hips and rattling the table, and you reciprocated by arching into him, sliding your fingers through his soft curls and whining with elation into his ear.  

"I'm gonna come," he gasped out, both hands latching onto your hips.  "I'm gonna come."  He sounded almost afraid.  It roused an instinct in you to reassure him, but figured he would perceive that as patronizing so you kept it to yourself.  

"Do it," you cried, arms circling his neck; the tension in your lower body was cranking up again.  "Come, Kei--I want you to _come._ "  

You'd said his first name so naturally that it was even more shocking for him to hear.  Then you said it again and again, your legs winding over his waist, and he passed the point of no return and hammered away, grunting through his teeth as he convulsed.  The look on his face as he came, stripped bare of his mask of cool indifference, was so uninhibited and unbelievably sexy that you flew over the edge for a second time, dragging his name out of your throat.  

Heavy pants echoed in the room that you were slowly becoming aware of again.  Tsukishima wobbled when he rose off of you to remove the condom, tossing it into a nearby trash can.  When he looked back, he realized that the table you were on had moved two feet from its original position, a direct result of your vigorous fucking.  Despite him quickly averting his gaze, you were still able to spot the faint blush on his cheeks.  

"So," you began, sitting up to retrieve your bra, "Do you still want me to stop looking at you?"  

As much as Tsukishima hated to be proven wrong, he couldn't lie about this; but he didn't want to say so, either.  With a sulky look thrown your way, he tucked himself back into his pants before picking up your shirt and bow from the floor.  

You smiled and accepted the pieces of your uniform, putting them back on.  

"I can't believe I just did that," he grumbled almost inaudibly.

"Which part--fucking at school, or fucking for the first time?"  

Tsukishima frowned at you.  "...Both."  

You hopped off the table, holding your skirt up to avoid getting evidence of your activities smeared onto it, and made your way to where your panties had landed to pick them up, knowing full well that Tsukishima was eyeing your ass the whole time.  

You kept your back to him as you stood back up, holding the still-damp underwear.  "Do you still want me to not look at you anymore?"  

His tall frame suddenly enveloped you from behind, and you gasped.  

"It's all right for you to look at me," he said begrudgingly, "as long as I get to hear and see you make more of those noises and faces that you just did."    

"Is that right?"

"I like the way you sound."  The tail end of his sentence went into your neck as he nipped at it, making you giggle.

You turned around to face him.  "I could say the same about you," you said, biting your lip teasingly and slipping your panties into your skirt pocket rather than putting them on.  His eyes widened, and you giggled again.

"You look good without your glasses, too.  But..."  You picked up his black frames from the table and slid them back onto his face.  "I kind of want you to be able to see me clearly the next time."  

He studied you carefully, like a biologist that had come across a dangerous creature.  "When would the next time be?"  

You shrugged coyly.  "Whenever you like."  

His eyes narrowed, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.  When he spoke again, his voice was back to that dry, sardonic tone that he was known for.  

"Got any more condoms in your bag?"  

Your lips stretched into a wide grin.

The quiet ones really are the freaks, Tsukishima thought to himself as he pummeled into you for the second time that day.  

He would know.  

After all, it was _his_ inspired idea to bend you over the angled drafting table and muffle your moans by stuffing your panties into your mouth, then stand against the wall adjacent to the door to avoid being seen by a passing custodian while still fucking you.  

**Author's Note:**

> ║ ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ ║
> 
> Tsukishima is one of my favourite characters, so it was a natural choice to write my him as my first Haikyuu oneshot! In the near future I have plans for Ushijima, Oikawa, maybe Daichi, and hopefully the Miya twins, too!
> 
> Find me at [Tumblr](https://tanzanitedepths.tumblr.com/) where you can see me recant shit that goes on at work and wonder out loud about writing-related stuff!


End file.
